|Posted by doktakra on October 6, 2009 at 3:00 AM||comments (6)|
No, no, Michelle and I haven't broken up...far from it, actually. But I'm guessing you don't want to hear about that stuff, since I've been told that I was more entertaining when I was resentful and miserable. I'll just get right to the big announcement and get it overwith: Candace and I are done. I mean it. I don't know exactly when it hit me, but I've stopped caring about the one-time dreamgirl. Of course, her marriage to the-one-who-shall-not-be-named and their love child (shudders) didn't help, and a second straight snub at MSG might've been the final straw. If you don't think I'm serious about it being over, look no further than here -- that's right, the infamous bedroom poster is no more. No, I'm not gon' cry, I'm not gon' cry, I'm not gon' shed no tears...
Anyways, I've moved on, and eventually, so will you. To help with the grieving process, Iet's get back to the basics with a good ol' fashioned hate list. This week's theme is elevator etiquette which I have not previously covered (see Things I Hate in the sidebar for more thoughts on people who block the exit or take the elevator to go down one f'ing floor).
*People who hold the elevator door open to continue their conversation: I think the rules are pretty simple here. If you're getting on the elevator, then either stop talking to the person on your floor or don't get on at all (note that in the latter case, I'll still be mad that you've wasted precious seconds of my time, but considerably less so). Amazingly, this also works in reverse when you're on the verge of disembarking, but find yourself in mid-conversation. The point is, I'm already irritated that the elevator stopped on your floor and ruined my express ride, but you then compound my anger by standing in the doorway and carelessly talking while I wait for your inconsiderate ass to finish. I'm giving you the evil eye as I type this.
*People who leave farts in the elevator that I subsequently board: This is even more offensive when another person enters and assumes that I was the culprit. Not cool at all.
*People who press the elevator button repeatedly after it's already been pressed: Once again, this concept seems simple to me. If the button is lit-up, it means that someone before you (probably me) already pressed it. Do you think that I'm an idiot and didn't do it correctly, or that your magic touch will make the elevator come quicker if you keep on pushing it? Similarly, if your floor has already been pressed when you step inside, there is absolutely no reason to push the button again. It will change nothing, I promise you.
*People who squeeze into a crowded elevator when there's no room: Self-explanatory, I'd imagine. Bonus hate points awarded if you're with a group of people and feel that every single member of your large party (intentional double-meaning) needs to get into the same elevator, because clearly, another one won't come a few minutes later and make the ride more comfortable for everyone involved.
*People who don't say, "thank you" or otherwise acknowledge my act of kindness when I hold the door for them: On those rare days when I decide to do something nice like that (nine out of ten times, an attractive woman will be involved), I'd at least expect a nod or a smile in return. It's ungrateful people like you who make me frantically press the door close button as you're approaching the elevator, which more often than not, does nothing anyway, aside from making me look like an ass. Sigh.
|Posted by doktakra on July 23, 2009 at 1:48 PM||comments (7)|
Before I get into the latest hate list, I'd like to take this time to apologize to you, the reader, for breaking no less than three of my own rules over the last three weeks. I took cover under an obnoxiously oversized umbrella during a rain storm, texted during a movie in the theater, and perhaps most egregiously, engaged in and even initated a lot (PG-rated) PDA. The moral of the story is that women are evil. Or that I'm a hypocrite...whatever. I'm almost as bad at apologizing as Chris Brown. In either case, I feel better now that this is out in the open, and to make it up to you, I vow to never, ever become one of the following despicaple people.
*People who walk/run shirtless: I get that it's the summer and it's too hot to wear clothing -- believe me, if anyone understand this, it's me. But if you're running shirtless on the street, then I'm sorry, but there's no other way to say it: you're a douche bag. And it's not just because of the shirtless thing -- it's because you also took the time out to shave your chest and apply a tub of tanning oil so that everyone can check out your glistening body. This isn't limited to Matthew McConaughey-types either. It especially applies to the overweight bankers who think their pale, bouncing gut is something I need to see when I'm trying to enjoy a nice day in the park (though it can be a little mesmerizing). As a general rule of thumb, gents, if you're a B cup or above, you should keep your shirt on at all times.
*People who watch The Food Network at the gym: Aside from actually snacking on the treadmill, I can't imagine a more ridiculous and counter-productive activity. I mean, it's just cruel to show food during the one time in the day when I'm trying not to think about eating. Maybe there's some kind of masochism in watching something you're trying to deny yourself that makes food porn so pleasurable. Whatever it is, I end up leaving the stupid gym hungrier than ever and ready to binge on chocolate cake because of your twisted mind.
*Close talkers: This one's pretty self-explanatory, I'd imagine, and falls under the whole buffer zone concept I covered earlier. I get that there may be cultural differences in play, but at least stop inching closer when I'm trying to back away so you're not all up in my face. If I can smell your breath (good or bad) or see that you missed a spot shaving, then you're too damn close, bro.
*People who park too far apart: Parking is hard enough to find on the city streets, and it's even more frustrating when drivers leave too much space between the car in front of them, consequently leaving too little space for another car to fit behind them. I mean, seriously, is it that hard to move up just a tad and be considerate to someone else? I hope you get a parking ticket just for being an ass.
*People who are obsessed with Purell: I'll admit that I don't pay much attention to the news and every new apocalyptic virus that signals the end of civilization . Are we still afraid of contracting swine flu? Avian flu? SARS? The Bubonic plague? I don't know, and I don't care. Look, there's nothing wrong with using hand sanitizer once in a while, especially if there's a cold going around the office, but that doesn't mean you need to carry a little bottle with you at all times and use it every 15 minutes, as if it's some kind of magical vaccine (and what about the .01% of super bacteria that it doesn't kill, which then rapidly reproduces, huh???).
And I have news for you -- by no means is it a subsitture for soap and water. I actually had a coworker who never washed his hands after going to the bathroom, even when there were people in there who saw him. I couldn't stand it, and finally called him out on it. His response was something like, "Oh, don't worry about that. I use Purell when I get to my desk." Um, even if bought that, what about the door knob and everything else you touched on your way back? Gross, and I'll bet he's not the only one doing this. The dependency needs to stop, and it begins with you.
|Posted by doktakra on June 13, 2009 at 11:27 AM||comments (13)|
It's that time again. I'm busting open an oversized bag of hate, and who knows what kind of goodies I might find in there. Let's get this thing popping...
*Jeans with no back pockets: I still don't understand this phenomenon -- jeans should have back pockets, damn it, plain and simple. Now, no-pocket jeans might make your ass look bigger (nothing wrong with that), but without the back pocket, all butts pretty much look the same -- with noted exceptions -- when a guy (not me, of course) compares your ass other women's. Don't get mad, I'm just telling it like it is. And besides, aren't they there for me to slip my hand into at the most inopportune time? So do all of us a favor and put those babies all the way in the back of your closet.
*Fake pockets: While I'm here, I'd also like to mention my disdain for these pretend-pockets on some pairs of pants, which aren't really pockets at all, but useless slits in places where real pockets could and should be, but are not. Is it really that hard to make real pockets when you're already halfway there?
*Clothing sizes: Have you ever bought something in your size, and then had it not fit? Sometimes a shirt's too big, and sometimes it's too small, despite claiming to have the same measurements as all other shirts of its kind. See, if only we had a universal system for clothing sizes so no one would have such problems. Oh, right, we do -- they're called small, medium, and large. Step ya game up, retailers!
*People who don't respect the buffer zone: I learned about the buffer zone back in middle school, when a foreign student, Bartos, decided to sit at our lunch table. He was a nice kid, but to put it mildly, he smelled like stale onions, and you needed to skip at least one chair if you were brave enough to sit next to him. Since then, partly out of reflex, I always leave a comfortable buffer between me and another person. But apparently, there are people who haven't fully grasped this concept and willingly choose the seat next to mine when there are plenty of open spaces available. It's even worse if I'm eating and don't have enough elbow room because of your disrespectful ass -- move!
*Signing credit card receipts: Why do stores still make you sign a credit card receipt when you buy something? Yeah, I know that banks require them from businesses or some crap, but it makes no sense. It's not like anyone actually compares my signature against the one on the back of my card. Hell, I must've signed my name so many different times, with random misspellings and incomprehensible scribbles that I wouldn't even recognize my own signature. From now on, I'm only signing fake names, sexual innuendos, or simply, "Lakers Suck" to see how long it'll take for them to catch on...
|Posted by doktakra on April 14, 2009 at 4:45 PM||comments (2)|
All right, I've kept you waiting long enough -- I'm back with more venom. Before I get to the people I hate, I'd like to once again express my disdain for the NYC Transit System. A $10 MetroCard used to come with a $2 bonus, meaning you'd get a free ride...until some geniuses decided to lower that extra amount to a ridiculous number like $1.55. I get that these are tough times and everyone's cutting back, but what the hell am I supposed to go with the leftover pennies that always remain on the card? It's practically impossible to get back to zero, and it annoys the hell out of me when I see something like $0.45 on the meter after I swipe. This has been reason #4,385 why I hate the MTA.
*People who dress too warmly: I'm terrible at checking the weather in the morning, and there have been plenty of times when I've gone outside in my winter jacket, only to discover that it's 60 degrees outside. But you know what I do when that happens? I take off my jacket and carry it like a normal person. I don't get these people who continue to walk around in gloves and wool hats when everyone else is wearing t-shirts. And if they're not hot and sweating, then the sweatbeast in me hates them even more.
*People who dress up when they don't have to: It's nice to put on a suit once in a while, I guess, but most of the time, I'm grimy as they get, mud on my pants and shirt, when I be putting in work. Under no circumstances would I ever put on dress pants or a button-down when I don't have to, and I hate you if you feel differently. I will not argue this.
*People who have their head turned when they're walking towards me: Someone, usually a middle-aged woman, will be walking with her head turned to the side, looking at something or talking to someone behind her, and I have no way of getting around her on a busy street. She'll then get all startled and apologize when she inevitably bumps into me. This happens much more frequently than you'd think, and I can't stand it.
*People who take pick-up basketball games way too seriously: Have you ever played ball with someone who starts yelling like a mad man at everyone and getting pissed off at his own teammates? Okay, so you thought I was gonna cut when I went back out, or you think the other team has the score wrong, but is it really that big of a deal? And yes, I'm probably saying this because I suck and don't need to hear it from anyone else, but the point remains...
|Posted by doktakra on February 26, 2009 at 3:10 PM||comments (6)|
|Posted by doktakra on January 17, 2009 at 1:21 PM||comments (3)|
I'm not a big magazine person -- or a book person, for that matter -- but I like to skim the occasional US Weekly to catch up on the last celebrity gossip (don't judge me). I've also had a subscription to Entertainment Weekly for the last few years, but only because happens to be excellent reading material for the toilet -- what, like you don't do it? That said, there are a few magazines out there that I won't ever buy on principle alone...
Vibe: I don't know if this is common knowledge, but I didn't know that Vibe has a policy against putting white musicians on the cover until Robin Thicke explained it in a recent interview. First of all, what about the time they put Eminem on the cover and also named him the best rapper alive (don't even get me started on that ridiculous 'contest')? But more importantly, I wouldn't expect anyone to have a closed-minded view like that in this day and age. Imagine the outrage if a "white" magazine like Rolling Stone said they wouldn't put any black artists on the cover. In the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that I have a free subscription to Vibe through some promotion, and I really enjoyed the nude Ciara issue a few months ago. But I won't buy it in stores after the subscriptions ends...well, unless another beautiful naked woman is on the cover.
Blender: For a magazine that calls itself "the ultimate guide to music," the editors need a lesson in hip-hop. Check out their picks for the 40 Worst Lyricists in Rock (where "rock" apparently means all genres of music) -- how the hell does Common make that list? He's at #36 and KRS-One is at #25, while Kevin Federline is at #30. Seriously? Maybe I could understand if this was published after he released the cringeworthy Universal Mind Control, but this was in 2007, when Be and Finding Forever were critically acclaimed just about everywhere. And their choice for worst lyric isn't even from Common -- it's from Canibus, who is featured on "Making a Name for Ourselves." What do Cam'Ron and the Ying Yang Twins have to do to get mentioned? I gotta say though, it's a little ironic that there's an ad for Zune 3.0 featuring Common on that same page...
Maxim / FHM / Stuff: I know, after what I said about Vibe, this doesn't seem to make a lot of sense. But there's a specific reason why I don't buy any of these men's entertainment mags. A few years ago, one of them had a whole column about ways to smack a girl's butt without getting in trouble. I know they're supposed to be funny and appeal to guys, but come on..that's irresponsible and shameful. And no, I never tried any of their "tips" because I'm not that type of dude...even though a few could potentially work. Hmm....
And finally, as an addendum to my "People I Hate" post, I can't believe I forgot to mention people who get on the elevator to go down one floor. If you have two working legs, there's no reason why you can't walk down one freaking flight of stairs. Instead, I have to waste a minute of my time while the elevator stops on your floor, opens and closes (do 'door close' buttons do anything??), stops again, and then opens and closes again. If you think I'm cursing you out under my breath, you're right on...take the damn stairs next time.
|Posted by doktakra on December 24, 2008 at 3:41 PM||comments (5)|
I miss walking to work, and not just because the commute took all of five minutes and saved me a ton of money. It's because I hate every single person in the train station, on the train itself, on the staircase, and so on. A few months ago, I promised to discuss my disdain for slow walkers and tourists. That time has come.
Slow walkers: Even if I'm not in a rush, I instinctively walk faster than most people on the street. So, I don't appreciate it when there's traffic on the sidewalk, and I have to walk slower than Hurley after a light meal. I hate you even more if you're slowing me down because you're walking while reading a book (how is this a good idea?) or sending a text message. This is unacceptable -- I hope you trip and fall, and I'll be sure to let you know when I finally pass you. And I will pass you, even if it's just to give you a dirty look. As I said before, the only possible exceptions are tourists and old people, but even they'll get a slight nudge if it's a really narrow street. The difference is, I'll say, "excuse me."
People who stand in front of the doors/exists: Am I wrong, or is it common courtesy to let the passengers off the train before coming on yourself? Don't most people wait like 10 seconds by the side of the door until it's their turn to board? Yeah...try telling that to the morning commuters in the Path station. My heart fills up with what? Rage!
People with obnoxiously large umbrellas: I mean, seriously, how big does it need to be? Last I checked, the point of an umbrella is to keep you dry from the rain, not to act as some kind of pointy forcefield. It's even better when two people with umbrellas decide to walk side-by-side. And if you also happen to be a slow-walker -- don't say I didn't warn you.
People who walk up two stairs at once: I don't know why, but I hate you and your long, athletic legs. That is all.
People who need to turn down the volume OR who sing along: I'm grouping these together because I find them equally irritating. I'm sure you've been next to someone who's listening to music so damn loudly, that you can hear every word coming from the headphones. I hate that. I also can't stand people who decide to (conciously or not) hum or sing along in public. I don't care how much you love that Natasha Bedingfield song -- I don't need to hear your rendition...ever.
Ah, that felt good. I feel a little better now...thanks for listening. And happy holidays!
|Posted by doktakra on September 4, 2008 at 5:09 PM||comments (4)|
I can't stand doing laundry -- it's the main reason why I need a woman in my life (kidding about that...well, sort of). First of all, it's more overpriced than the average New York City apartment (not happy about this). From what I hear, the $2.60 per load my building charges is on par with local places, but that doesn't mean it's a good deal. I remember when a load cost four quarters! Maybe I'm just looking for more reasons to hate the superintendent. Anyways....and this ties into reason number one, I've taken the bold step of doing my laundry once every two weeks. The pros: I end up using three machines instead of four (presuming I'd use two per week), and only have to deal with this crap half as much (more on this shortly) . The cons: my sweaty gym clothes don't smell any better as time passes, and I have to drag my wet, 80-pound laundry bag six floors down to the laundromat. A pleasant mental image, I'm sure.
But all that aside, it's just a really awkward process. The room is usually packed, and people stop and stare when I gather my stuff (at least it feels like they do...I'm paranoid). If someone is waiting for me to free up a washing machine or dryer, I end up getting nervous and drop articles of clothing on the floor....usually something I wouldn't want an attractive female to see, like my super cool "Family Guy" boxers. The over/under for number of lost socks stands at a solid 1.5 per load....though occasionaly getting someone else's clothes mixed in with mine is a welcome bonus. Actually, I found this small "Victoria's Secret" thong -- had to check the site for, um, reseach -- with my stuff one time. I wasn't about to bring it back down, so I did what any normal guy would do....I tried it on to see how it would feel. I don't blame you for thinking less of me for this, but hey, it happened. Long story short, some, er, pieces didn't fit and I threw it away....after a few days. Has it been 45 minutes yet? I still gotta get my clothes out of the dry, and they better not still be wet...
|Posted by doktakra on December 30, 2007 at 10:49 PM||comments (2)|
I don't get people. I was waiting in line for the bus the other day, when this random woman said she forgot her cell phone and asked if she could borrow mine. I had no problem with this and handed it to her...except that she wanted me to dial the number for her. I found this odd since she clearly owned a phone and knew how to use it, and was scrolling through her PDA to find the person, but whatever. If this was one call, I wouldn't even mention it....but she couldn't find the right number and made me call eight different people. She was still not set by the time the bus came, and asked if she could sit down next to me to continue this fun process. Stuck in the already uncomfortable seats, she looked over my shoulder each time to make sure I was putting in the right digits on the keypad before taking the phone to her ear. Thankfully, she got ahold of her sister in Florida on the 11th call. See, in a perfect world, she'd work for a record company and be my in to the entertainment world. Instead, she's a insurance salesman who now has my number...I saw her write it down. Oh, and to top if all off, the driver went the wrong way and lengthened my trip by an extra 20 minutes. Yeah, good times all around.
With that out of the way, let's get to the depressing stuff....come on, it's been a while, so I was due. Normally, I rely on the magic of self-delusion to rescue me from the daily struggle that is my life (so overly dramatic!), but even that hasn't been enough lately. Speaking of which, I still don't know what I'm doing for New Year's eve...the midnight run was fun last year, but I'm not really into it now. I'm not really into anything.
It's funny how a short while ago, I was feeling as good as ever, daring to believe that things were turning in my favor. I only ask for three things in my life -- one life, one try, one breath -- a steady job to pay the rent, the Kings, and a good woman. And all three are finding new ways to disappointed me. Let's go through a quick rundown: there was this dagger through the heart just before the holidays; I have no idea where my future is headed after some unpleasantnesses at work that would get its own blog entry if I wanted to risk termination; and of course, [warning: explicit language] ain't nobody calling back. I won't go into details on the last one either, mostly because I don't even understand the situation myself. But I'm pretty sure when someone, no matter how nice they are, doesn't respond to e-mails and phone messages, it means they're not really interested. That much I've learned over the years. Dealing with being inexplicably hurt by someone I care about, I have not.
All of these factors combined led to my first ever joyless Sunday volunteering experience...which is what I look forward to all week long. So, the question now is, if I don't have that, what do I have? It's like a jungle sometimes, it makes me wonder, how I keep from going under...
|Posted by doktakra on September 8, 2007 at 7:07 PM||comments (2)|
There's no other way to say it. I went to F.Y.E. in midtown Manhattan for a Kanye autograph signing, which also required a pre-order of his new album, Graduation. Well, not only does the guy show up an hour late -- after blowing off an NBC Today Show appearance to boot -- but he doesn't allow any pictures of or with him, refuses to personalize anything, and won't even shake anyone's hand. After he quickly scribbled something illegible on my centerfold mini-poster 'graduation certificate' , he managed to give me the most fake smile I've ever seen, along with a half-hearted handshake that only got out of him by grabbing his hand, much to the dismay of his four bodyguards. I mean, I realize he doesn't care what people think and has a just a bit of an ego -- but even he knows that the fans are the ones who bring in the money and make him famous. I wasn't the only one who was pissed off after the signing, but apparently I was the only one to cancel my pre-order, according to the store's sale staff. Serves him right -- I hope he loses to 50 Cent next Tuesday...nah, I don't really mean that. I won't lie, I'll still probably pick up his CD at some point, but Mr. West has lost a lot of his appeal to me.